


Notice Me Not

by Stump_Pan (jhanjones)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canonical Character Death, Complete, Extended Scene, Gen, Missing Scene, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhanjones/pseuds/Stump_Pan
Summary: Harry doesn't know if he should go back the Battle of Hogwarts or move on.  He gets some much needed advice.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry sat on a bench beside Dumbledore in this strange clean and train-less version of King’s Cross.  The strange tortured creature that was Voldemort’s soul made soft, pitiful whimpers under a distant bench.  Harry and the former headmaster paid it no mind.

The minutes ticked away.  Although, it may have only been seconds.  It was hard to know in this timeless expanse.  

Harry tried to take in all the old wizard had told him of Voldemort, Horcruxes, and Hallows. There was so much to understand.  This great man was not perfect. Harry knew that.  It was one of his harder learned lessons over the last year.  But something the headmaster said did not sit right with the teen.

“Sir,” Harry asked after another moment.

“What is it, you darling boy,” Dumbledore asked joyfully.

“You said you wanted to shine, you wanted glory.” Harry began.

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “I wanted to prove I was the greatest wizard of my age.”

“But weren’t you doing that already?”  Harry asked.  “When I took my O.W.L.s one of the examiners said during your N.E.W.T.s you did things with your wand that they had never seen before.”

“That was a very generous statement of them to make.  I was young and impatient, Harry.  I just wanted somebody to notice me then and right then.  I wanted power. It was in that effort that my desire for the Hallows manifested.”  Dumbledore explained.  

Harry could not understand this.  “But,” he said.

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop the teen.  “Harry, since your return to our world you have been famous.  Everyone expected great things from you since what happened when you were just a baby.  I had to prove myself.  I wanted to escape the ties to my disgraced father, my sick sister, and wayward brother.”

“But I was young and proud.  I had not yet learned the notice I should crave was not from the outside world, but that of my family, those who loved me.  It was not until the loss of Ariana and the fight with my brother I realized how much I had truly lost.”  

The man closely watched the teenager’s face for looks for disgust, betrayal, or something else.   

“Do not pity me, Harry. I was a fool and I lived with the lesson my loss gave me for the rest of my life.  It taught me something that Voldemort could never understand.  Not that he would ever wish to learn it. Do not pity the dead, Harry.  Pity the living and above all, those who live without love.”

“I don’t pity you,” Harry told him softly.  

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said sincerely.  

Harry considered this for a moment.  “You think I should go back?”  He asked again.

“I think,” said Dumbledore, that if you choose to return there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it.  But know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning than he does.”

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss.

“If I don’t go back, will people only remember me as the “Boy-Who-Lived”? I defeated Voldemort once and left the final job to somebody else.”  Harry asked.

“Yes, you are probably right,” Dumbledore confirmed.

“So, if I go back I can make people notice there is more to me?”

“Harry, there is more to life than attention, what people think of you.”

“I know that, sir.”  Harry reassured the old man.

Dumbledore smiled a soft sad smile.  “Of course you do, my boy.  For you are a better man than I.  I have said it before and will say it again.”  

“I don’t want to be the noticed,” Harry explained.  “I want to be able to live my life as ‘Just Harry’.  Will I always be the ‘Great Harry Potter’, ‘the Boy-Who-Lived’?”

“Harry, you want to be noticed,” Dumbledore corrected.  “You desire for people to see you for what you do.  You wish them to see you for you, not simply your mother’s terrific sacrifice.  It is understandable.”

“Will it happen?”  Harry asked.

“It is practically impossible to tell the future.”  Dumbledore reminded him.  “But I feel that your connection with the fate with that of Voldemort will always be a part of your existence.”

“Then maybe I don’t want to go back.”  Harry said.  “I can leave it somebody else to finish him off.  I’m tired of being the great savior.  Let somebody else do it now.” 

“Harry,” Dumbledore protested.  “Should countless other suffer because you do want people to think of your parents and their sacrifice when they see you, my boy? Is that fair?”

“No,” Harry conceded, “But I’m still not sure I want to go back.”

“Perhaps I am not the person you should be talking to then,” Dumbledore said.

Harry looked at him puzzled.    

“There are others that wish to speak with you.”  The old man said.  

“Oh,” Harry was a bit surprised by this. 

“They may be better at helping you decide if you wish to move on to return and finish Voldemort off.”  

“Are you sure they’ll want to see me?”  

“It is more a question if you wish to speak to them.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then perhaps you should only listen.  Even those we do not like can teach us a great deal.”  Dumbledore remarked. 

This statement puzzled Harry.  Who would want to come and talk to him that he did not like?  What could they need to say to him in this odd timeless space.  Would it really help him make up his mind of whether to return to the world of the living or to move onward? 

Dumbledore rose and Harry stood up with him.  

“Sit child,” Dumbledore instructed.  Harry did as he was told.  

“The others will be here in their own time. I will say goodbye for now, no matter which you choose.”  Dumbledore walked off into the mist.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sat silently on the bench watching were the old man disappeared. It wasn’t long for the next person to arrive.

A tall man appeared a moment later.  His glasses slightly askew, his black hair messy, sticking up at odd angles.

“Dad,” Harry greeted.  

“Hey kiddo,” James replied.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” James said as he took a seat next to his son.

“Is Mum coming?” Harry asked.

James shook his head.  “Not this time.  I thought we should have a talk.”

Harry nodded slowly. What did his dad want to talk about?  Dumbledore said that others wished to speak to him.  He said that it would perhaps help him make up his mind on whether or not to return.  

“Harry,” James began. “You can choose which way you want to go now.  Your Mum and I will support you either way.”

Harry nodded.  “What do you think I should do?”

“That is up to you.  If you go back, you will have to fight again.  Like I said, your mother and I will support you either way.  You’ve spent your whole life fighting.  Harry, no one will blame you if you choose to stay.  You’ve fought long enough.  Rest, you deserve it.” James said.

“You think I should stay then?”  Harry asked.

“It’s up to you.” James replied.  “I’m just letting you know that I would be ok if you stayed.  Your mother and I would love to have you back with us.”

Harry looked at his father again.  Dumbledore said he could choose, but said that he should go back.  Here was his dad saying that he wanted him to stay.  Harry wasn’t sure what he should do now.

The sounds coming from the mangled thing under the chair increased for a moment.  Neither father nor son paid it any attention.  This was about them.

“We’ll be here for you whatever you choose.” James promised.

“You and Mum fought your whole lives too.” Harry protested.

“No,” James disagreed.  “We got to have a childhood.  Lily’s sister and her husband stopped you from having a normal one of those. She treated you like a House Elf.  If there was one thing I could change it would be selecting Peter as Secret Keeper.  At least, your mum and I should have told somebody about the change.  We should have accepted Dumbledore’s offer.  You should never have been forced to live with your awful Muggle relatives.  You should have grown up in a home where you were loved.  You were fighting long before you got to Hogwarts.”     

“Then when you got to school you found acceptance, but no peace.  Your mother and I, we attended Hogwarts in peace…. Relative peace…”

“What do you mean?”  Harry asked.

“Voldemort’s power was growing when we were in school.  There were students we went to school with that went on to become Death Eaters.  That was a source of tension with some people, like Snape.”

“I had that too.” Harry argued.

“But we didn’t face Voldemort in our first year, or any other year of school.  We didn’t face him until after we graduated and were full qualified Aurors.  Your connection… your fate linked you to Voldemort.   It was in place before you were born.  Once Voldemort chose you for the prophecy…” James trailed off.  He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

Harry looked at his father.  The man wasn’t all that much older than him. He died when he was only four years older than Harry.

“Dad,” Harry asked after a moment. 

“What is it, Harry?”

“I just wanted to ask,” Harry began, but stopped uncertainly.   His dad had so much said that he only had the one regret.  Maybe it didn’t matter.  It wasn’t that important, really.

“What is it, Harry?” James asked.

Harry paused.  He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him now.  He should be worrying about if he should catch the train.  He should be worrying about the fate of those he loved that were still left behind.  But that’s not what he wanted to know right now.

Sirius and Remus told Harry why his dad was such a jerk in school, at least to Snape.  But this was the first time he got to ask his dad in person.  He had to ask, didn’t he?

“Dad, when you were in school,” Harry started once more.  “Why did you treat Snape…”

“You want to know why I was such a jerk to Snape,” James finished.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed.

James ruffled his hair once more.  “I just wanted somebody to notice me.   By somebody I mean your mum.  She and Snape were  _ so  _ close.  They were always together.  He was such a creep.  Interested in dark magic.  You saw what sort of things he came up with in his textbook.  I wanted her to see I was a much better option than Snivellus.” 

“So you picked on him?” Harry asked.

“We were kids, Harry.  It was what I thought it would take to get her to notice me.  I was better for her.” James tried to explain.

“I was a kid. I would never have done that.  Even Malfoy didn’t deserve that.”  Harry replied.

“No, you wouldn’t have.  You’re like your mum.  You see the best in everyone. Things would probably have been a lot different if I were more like you.” James said sadly.   

“Are you even sorry,” Harry demanded.  

“Of course I am. Who knows, Snape and I might have been friends.  But it’s too late for all that.” James ran his hand through his hair once more.

Harry turned his green eyes to match his father’s hazel.  But he must not have seen what he was looking for, as he torn his gaze away from his father’s.  He lunged to his feet turning his back on the man.   Harry was close to tears.  But he fought them back.  He was not going to cry.   How could the man not feel sorry for treating Snape in such a way?  

“I’m sorry, Harry,” James said as he stood. 

“You’re leaving,” Harry asked.  His voice was weak, the held back tears clear. 

“For now,” James confirmed. “You’ll see me later.  Don’t worry.”

“Dad,” Harry whined.

But in that instant James was gone.  Harry continued stared at the ground fighting back his tears.  


	3. Chapter 3

“Hi Harry,” Sirius greeted. 

Harry spun around to find his godfather behind him. 

Sirius sat on the bench Harry and James previously occupied. Like in the forest he was younger than when he died. His face was fuller, an easy grin spread across his lips. It looked as if he could tell a joke at any moment. He leaned back on the bench one arm lying on the top of it.

“What’s your excuse?” Harry demanded.

Sirius’s head was casually cocked to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Dad wanted Mum to pay attention to him. Why were you so mean to Snape?” Harry commanded. 

“Since when did you care about Snivellus?” Sirius asked taken aback. His head cocked from one side to the other. An action reminiscent of the oversized dog his Animangus form he took in life.

“Nobody deserved to be treated like that.” Harry stated.

“You never cared before.” Sirius reminded him.

There was a pause. Harry collected himself.

Sirius waited patiently and asked, “Why do you care about Snape all of a sudden?”

Harry frowned at him. “He was protecting me.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 

“He gave me his memories before I came into the forest. He was protecting me since he loved my mum.” 

Sirius snorted. “If that’s what you want to call it. Snape didn’t love your mum. He was obsessed with her. He was always hanging around her.”

Harry waited for him to continue. When he didn’t he asked. “What did Snape liking my mum matter to you?”

Sirius snorted again. “Harry, you don’t know what my family was like.” 

“I’ve seen your mother’s portrait.” Harry argued.

“What’s tame compared to her in real life. When I was young I wanted nothing more than to escape that horrible place, those terrible people I was related to. I was the oldest Black. I was to carry on the family name.”

“Sirius,” Harry said. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?” Harry demanded.

“When I got to Hogwarts. I just wanted somebody, anybody to notice me.” Sirius explained. “At Hogwarts I was not the ungrateful son, the disappointment, the blight on the family name. I was free to be me for the first time in my life. It was liberating.”

“Ok,” Harry said slowly.

“When your dad and I met Snape on the train he was going on about how great Slytherin was, how they were going to be there together. He wanted to be where I was trying to escape.”

“So you made fun of him?” Harry asked.

Sirius nodded. “Snivellus was everything my parents wanted in a son. He was a Slytherin. He was interested in the Dark Arts. I couldn’t stand it. James was my best friend. He didn’t like the slimy git either.”

The damaged creature made another small sound. It flailed its rough-skinned arms trying to gain the attention of the others in the station. Harry ignored the sounds. Sirius looked towards it for a moment in disgust, before turning back to Harry.

Harry thought about this. It at least a made a little more sense. He knew how hard it could be to have a family that didn’t like you, that saw you as a disappointment. 

“So him telling you he loved your mother means you’re willing to forgive everything for the last seven years?” Sirius asked Harry.

Harry finally came to sit down next to his godfather. “I don’t know. He loved my mum. He was trying to keep me safe for her. In first year, I thought he tried to kill me during a Quidditch match. But all those times where I was in danger, he did his best to keep me safe for her.”

“He hated James,” Sirius commented.

“I know.” Harry agreed. 

“That’s why he didn’t like you. The git was jealous. He wished he was a talented, as popular. James was the better man and got Lily. You were the proof of all that.”

Harry could only nod.

“Harry, you need to choose where you want to go.” Sirius said moving the discussion on. Sirius was bored with the previous topic. He hadn’t come to talk about Snape. He was here to talk to his godson about boy’s fate not about school rivalries had with the bat of the dungeons.

“That’s what Dad and Dumbledore said. That I get to choose if I move on or if I stay and fight.” Harry told him. “What do you think I should do?”

Sirius shook his head. “That is up to you. I don’t know what James or Dumbledore told you to do.”

“Then why are you here?” Harry asked.

“To help you decide.” 

“But you can’t tell which I should do?”

Sirius nodded.

“If it were you, you’d go back, wouldn’t you?” Harry asked his godfather.

“I would. I would love to have a few more words with my dear cousin Bella. But that doesn’t have to be you, Harry. We will support you no matter which you choose.”

“If you would go back, then shouldn’t I?” Harry asked. “Professor Dumbledore thinks that if I go back I have a chance of finishing Voldemort once and for all. You shouldn’t have died for no reason.”

“I didn’t die for no reason, Harry. I died to protect you, Ron, and Hermione. I died in the service of the Order. That meant a great deal.”

There was a sound of grinding wheels and a thunk as a scarlet steam engine pulled in front of where Harry and Sirius sat. It really was like King’s Cross. 

Harry looked away from his godfather toward the train. 

“What’s that doing here?” The teen asked.

“It’s what will carry you on if you decide not to go back.” Sirius explained. 

A man appeared some distance down the track. He had on a conductor’s uniform. Even on this train there was somebody to check the tickets it seemed. Harry looked at him a bit harder. He sort of looked like Stan Shunpike, but his ears stuck out less and he didn’t have a bad of case of acne. Who knew, maybe it was Stan. Nobody he met here looked exactly like they had in life. 

Harry looked at his godfather again. “How long do I have to decide?”

“As long as you need. But I have to go now. There are a few more people that need to speak to you.” Sirius told him and with this he walked forward into the mist.


	4. Chapter 4

A new voice said from Harry’s right. “It’s good to see you, Harry.  I wish it were under different circumstances.”

Harry looked up at Remus. Like in the forest, he looked younger. His hair was free of greys and his face less ragged.  He was young and healthy once more. Healthier than he ever had been probably.

“I know what you discussed with James and Sirius, about Severus.  They can’t change the past,” Remus reminded the teen.

“I know,” Harry grumbled.  He took a moment to get better control of his breathing before he chanced speaking once more.

Remus took a seat on the bench.  He was comfortable, but nowhere near as causal as Sirius appeared.  He waited patiently for Harry to collect his thoughts. 

It was another minute before Harry could speak.  Even after that time the agitation was still clear.

“How could you be friends with them?” Harry demanded.

Remus patted the bench beside him.  Harry glared, but took the offered seat with a huff.

“Harry, you need to understand.” Remus began.

“Understand what, Remus?” Harry snapped.

“Understand what your father and Sirius told you.” Remus clarified.

“What? They made Snape’s life miserable because Dad liked Mum and he was jealous?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Remus agreed. “And Sirius…”

“How could you be friends with them?” Harry asked again.  This time more exasperated than angry.

Remus opened his robes his and removed a large bar of Honeydukes Finest Chocolate from an interior pocket.  Harry watched dumbfounded as Remus carefully pulled back the paper and then the gold foil.  He snapped off a chunk and extended it to Harry.  The boy took it wordlessly.   

Remus took a deep breath.  “Are you ready to listen?”

In the silence that came between them in that moment the tortured sounds of the thing under the bench could be heard.  Neither party paid it any mind however. 

Harry nodded, shoving the cholate in his mouth.  Remus was right, chocolate did make almost everything better.

Remus looked at him before he spoke.  “I’ve told you before that your dad, James, Sirius, and even Peter were the first friends I’ve ever had.  That they accept me for who I was.  They didn’t care I was a werewolf.”

“That’s why they became Animagi,” Harry added.

“Yes,” Remus agreed.  “I’m not sure you understand how important that was to me, Harry.”

“I do,” Harry protested.

“I don’t think you do,” Remus disagreed.

“Ron and Hermione were my first friends.  Dudley made sure I never had friends at school.”  Harry pointed out.

“Yes, but if it were not for your mother’s family you would have, Harry.  I was a beast.  If people were not frightened of me, they felt sorry for me,” countered Remus.

Harry frowned in confusion.

“My parents did their best to give me as normal a childhood as they could.  It was hard.  I wasn’t able to go to a Muggle school because of my illness.  Making friends almost out of the question.”

Harry hadn’t thought about that.

“If it were not for the efforts of Professor Dumbledore, I would never have been able to come to Hogwarts.”  Remus explained.

It was that statement that made Harry realize just how hard things had been for his friend as a child.

“When I got to Hogwarts I just wanted somebody to notice me for me.  I wanted to be known for being Remus, not the werewolf to be terrified of, or the boy to be pitied.  My friends did that.  They were not perfect, by no means were they.”

“Okay,” Harry said finally starting to understand.

Remus continued.  “Your father and Sirius… Peter… I should never have let them become Animagi.  Even if they were doing if to help me.  If they had, we most certainly should never have left the Shrieking Shack.  It was a miracle no one was ever hurt on our night time adventures.”

The man paused for a moment.  

Harry had to ask.  “Is that the only thing you would change?”

Remus shook his head.  “No, I wish I had done more to keep them in control.  Your anger at James and Sirius is understandable.  But I am just as guilty, none of us should have treated Severus that way.”

“You didn’t,” Harry protested.

“I many not have thrown any of the hexes, but I didn’t stop them.  I may as well have participated.”  Remus explained.

Harry nodded in understanding.

The train let out a whistle.  Harry looked at Remus in confusion.  

“Our.,.. your time here is running out, Harry.”  Remus told him.  “You can join us, but you need to make up your mind.”

“What if I can’t choose?” Harry asked childishly.

“You have to, Harry.”  Remus told him seriously.

“Do you think I should go?” Harry asked him.

Remus sighed.  “No,” he said softly.

His dad and Sirius had told him what to do either way.  They said it was up to him.  It was nice to have somebody actually give him their opinion.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Remus continued. “I’m not going to see my son, my Teddy grow.  I’ll never get to drop him at the Hogwarts Express on September 1 st .  I’ll never get to do so many things.  But I will be at peace now.”

The train let out another whistle.  They both looked at the train.  

“Remus,” Tonks yelled, half-hanging out a train window. Her bright pink hair almost blinding in the surrounding white of the station.

Remus towards his wife and then looked back at the teen.  A sad smile spread across his face.  Remus stood and began to walk toward the train.  Harry followed.

They stopped at the door to the compartment.

“Wotcher Harry,” Tonks greeted.

“Hi Tonks,” Harry replied.

“Are you coming with us,” she asked.

Harry looked to Remus once more.  Then back at Tonks.

“I don’t think this is my train.”  Harry told her.

The doors on the compartments were closing.

Remus pulled the young man into a quick, but tight hug.  “We’ll see you later,” Remus said letting go. He joined his wife on the train.

“Be careful, Harry,” Tonks told him.  “And watch out for our Teddy for us.  Make sure he doesn’t fall into any cauldrons.”  

Harry chuckled.  Even in serious times like these Tonks could make jokes.

The train let out a blast of steam.  The wheels began to slowly turn.  It pulled out of the station with another blast of the whistle.  Harry watched it disappear into the fog.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry watched as the train chugged off into the white fog.

“Wait for me,” screamed a chubby man, chasing after the quickly vanishing train.

Harry’s anger rose once more. What was  _ he _ doing here?

“Pettigrew,” Harry snapped at the man.

The man turned his watery eyes back to the teen. Unlike his former friends, Pettigrew was not younger than when he died. He looked worse than when Harry had seen him in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor. His face was thin with the jowls of the fat man losing a great deal of weight. There were deep wrinkles, probably due to stress, Harry guessed. His hair was thin and slightly patchy.

“Harry,” Pettigrew said nervously. His face twitched as he drew his arms toward his chest in fear. 

“What are you doing here,” Harry snapped at the rat featured man.

“I… I wanted to come and tell you…” Pettigrew stammered.

“Tell me what?” Harry all but growled.

“You shouldn’t go back.”  Pettigrew squeaked.

“What,” Harry demanded.  What was this man thinking telling him what to do?

“Don’t go back.  You have no idea.  He has weapons you can’t imagine.  There is no way you’ll survive.  He’s going to kill you.”  Pettigrew told him.

“Not all of us have something to fear in death.”  Harry remembered something Dumbledore told him at the end of first year, after he faced Voldemort the first time.  ‘To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’  Harry repeated the statement to Pettigrew.  The smaller wizard did not seem to be comforted by his words.    

Pettigrew ran  a nervous hand over the stump of his right hand. Harry wasn’t surprised to see the missing hand. Not with the way the man looked here.

“I should tell you….tell you about why… Why I chose to do… To help Dark Lord.” Pettigrew stumbled.

“Why should I care, Harry snapped. “You killed my parents! You betrayed them! You said you would come forward so Sirius could be free. You ran away.  You went back to you Voldemort because people knew you were alive. People you used to call friends. Then when things were going badly; you thought about turning your back on your master. Except he wouldn’t let that happen here he paid back you for your betrayal.”

Pettigrew cowered before Harry. Harry glared at the man. He took a deep breath. The man should have a chance to speak. 

The moment dragged on.

Pettigrew still did not speak.

“Are you going to explain? You said that’s why you’re here.” Harry snapped as the silence got on his nerves. Or it would have been silence if there wasn’t Voldemort soul bit whimpering under a distant bench.

“I will… I just wanted somebody to notice me…” Pettigrew finally said.

Harry looked at the man, almost dumbfounded by this statement he now heard from four others.

“Everybody… Everybody loved James and Sirius. They were so smart. They were so popular. I wanted to be like them. They let me come with them.” Pettigrew said softly.

Harry did not speak. There was not much to say that. But Pettigrew did not continue.

“If you wanted to be like them, why did you turn them over to Voldemort?” Harry demanded.

Pettigrew flinched at the sharp tone.

“The Dark Lord was rising. He offered power, money, greatness for his followers.” Pettigrew said after a moment. “You betrayed your friends for power?” Harry asked.

Pettigrew did not reply again for another long moment.

“They weren’t my friends,” the man finally mumbled.

“What!” Harry exclaimed.

“They weren’t my friends.” Pettigrew repeated. “They kept me around to make themselves look good. They didn’t care for me.”

“Bollocks,” Harry replied. “If they didn’t care for you, they would have left you behind. They were popular. They were talented. Everybody says you couldn’t keep up. You were more of a problem to them then help.”

Pettigrew looked as if he’d been slapped. Harry’s words had hit him hard.

“The Dark Lord was going to give me the respect that they never gave me.” Pettigrew said lamely.

“You’re an idiot.” Harry told him. “How come Snape, the other Death Eaters didn’t know that you were an Animangus?” Harry asked. He didn’t want to hear anymore horrible excuses from this little shadow of a man.

“The Dark Lord told me not to tell anyone. He wanted me to be able to use me for special projects.” Pettigrew explained.

“He wanted to use you as a spy?” Harry clarified.

Pettigrew nodded.

“Are you loyal to anyone?” Harry asked. He didn’t expect an answer to that question. Harry was curious about who in the group Voldemort would want Pettigrew to spy on. Still, there was no way to trust a single word the rat said.

Their attention was drawn away from each other by the sound of the train coming through the station. The train didn’t sound like it was slowing down. It was not the scarlet train Remus and Tonks had boarded. This one was on the opposite track, facing the other direction. It was pitch black engine on this train. 

Pettigrew’s face lost what little colored it had. His beady eyes expanded in terror.  His gaze shot from Harry to down the track and back.  He seemed to know something that Harry didn’t.

The train let out a scream of its whistle.

“Don’t make me go,” Pettigrew begged. He approached Harry, his hand meeting with the stub as if raised in prayer.  “Don’t make me go,” Pettigrew repeated on the verge of tears.

The engine passed by the far bench. The small sounds of Voldemort’s soul were suddenly silent.

Harry shoved the desperate man away.  Pettigrew fell to the ground.  “Don’t make me go,” Pettigrew begged through his solid wall of tears.  He clutched at Harry’s robes like a lifeline.  Harry kicked the pathetic excuse of a man away.  Pettigrew began to move backward as if an invisible net was thrown over the man. He was pulled toward the train. The man fought uselessly against the force. He disappeared into the train. All of it lost in the fog that Harry had to assume was the south. Harry couldn’t say he felt sorry for the man.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry watched as the train disappeared. He imagined he could still hear Pettigrew’s screams over the sound of the grinding wheels.

Harry snorted, “Serves you right.”

“Gloating, Potter? Maybe you are more like your father than you care to admit.” A familiar voice said behind Harry.

Harry spun around. His father, the other Marauders, he could understand. Pettigrew with a bit of a surprise admitted. But Snape? That was too hard to believe.

If Harry had not seen the man’s memories, Harry might not have recognized him. He didn’t look all that different, but when you are used to seeing someone one way and pictures of them from many years before there is a disconnect.

The Snape that stood before Harry wasn’t the Snape as Potions Master. No, he was much younger. He was younger than Harry, by several years, his early teens.

“It’s rude to stare, Potter.” The teenage Snape chided. The body may have been young, but that was the only thing that was. Snape’s voice had all the same authority and acid Harry had come to know over the last seven years. Even the way Snape was dressed was more like the Potions Master. Though that was probably just the facts he still wore his school robes done to their most formal. His collar buttoned and tie knotted, not a fashion most boys wore if they could help it.

“Sir,” Harry said after a moment. Finally taking his eyes off the teen.

“I see you were able to figure out what you were supposed to do,” Snape remarked.

“Yes sir,” Harry said. “Your memories…” Harry began, but trailed off uncertain how to continue.

“What about them, Potter?” Snape demanded.

“They helped, sir.” Harry said after a moment. It was hard talking to the man after he’d seen something so personal, not to mention the way he appeared here.

“That was the point,” Snape told him coldly.

“So all of this time, you were protecting me. You were trying to keep me safe for my mum? Since you loved her.” Harry said.  His remark halfway between a question and a statement.

“Yes,” Snape confirmed.

“If you loved her, how come you called her a ‘Mudblood’?” Harry asked.

“Potter, you dolt. The loss of your mother’s friendship was not because of one horrible word.” Snape said bitterly.

Harry tried his best to look like he knew what Snape meant by that.

“The incident by the lake was merely the final straw. I thought even an idiotic Gryffindor like you could see that,” Snape said.

Harry could tell Snape’s patience was short.

“Yes sir,” Harry agreed. “But, I guess what… I guess I mean to ask is how could get to that point?  How did you become a future Death Eater?”

“As you know, not everybody comes from a perfect family. Petunia did a wonderful job of showing you that,” Snape remarked.

“But,” Harry began.

“Don’t interrupt, Potter.” Snape snapped. Yes, he was much the Potions Master despite the younger shell.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

Snape shot him a sharp look. And gave a small nod to himself.

“Your relatives and my parents were similar,” Snape continued.

Harry wanted to say something, but another look from Snape stopped him in his tracks.

“My father was…unkind. My mother she… She did her best given the circumstances. She was out of place in the Muggle world. Her family wanted nothing to do with her after she ran off with my father.”

Harry nodded. He sort of got that much from the memories he saw during Occlumency lessons.

Snape continued. “When I met your mother she accepted me as I was. She did not care that I came from Spinner’s End. She didn’t hate me because of my magic, for the fact I was Half-Blood, like my own family.”

Harry could understand that. Snape was right, living with the Dursleys was a lot like that.

“What about Hogwarts?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“I was getting there,” Snape hissed. “All my life I had been told I would be a Slytherin, just like my mother. Most of her family were in Slytherin. I thought it would be better there. It couldn’t be worse than Spinner’s End. As long as Lily was with me, all would be fine. Then we arrived.”

“Lily went to Gryffindor with your intolerable, arrogant father. I was of course sorted into Slytherin. Where I was a Half-Blood from a disgraced house. I just wanted somebody to notice me. Unfortunately, I got my wish.”

“Lucius took an interest in me. In my thirst to prove myself, I fell in with those that would become Death Eaters. Their teachings were not too far from what my mother had already instilled in me, and my Muggle father ensured I had no love for those who did not have magic. I failed to see how it was driving your mother away. I thought if I could prove myself she may find me worthy.”

“But she did not approve of my friends. My calling her that…that despicable word was all the proof she needed that the small forgotten boy she originally cared for was lost. What was left was a cold, bigoted, bully. She wanted nothing more to do with me.”

There was a long pause. Harry risked speaking. It certainly seemed like Snape was finished. “Then how come you protected me. Since you were doing it for her?”

“It was my penance. If I could keep you alive, perhaps your mother would forgive me.” Snape explained.

“Oh,” said Harry softly. That made sense.

“Potter,” Snape said gaining Harry’s attention.

Harry came back from his thoughts. His eyes found the black ones of the other teen. The dark orbs were softer than those of Snape in life. Still, they felt much older than the teenage face that  they currently studied him from, it was an odd mismatch.

“Potter, you must go back,” Snape commanded. There was no question, it was an order.

“But Professor Dumbledore, Dad, everybody said it was my choice,” Harry protested.

“If you wish to move on you will lose Granger, Weasley, Ginny. You will prove you are just like your father arrogant, selfish.” Snape told him.

“How?” Harry asked.

“The-Boy-Who-Lived, he must be remembered for his great deed. He could not come back and fight. He would be the great martyr, too scared to live.  If he did you might show the world his failings,” Snape goaded.

“My dad wasn’t a coward. He died bravely,” Harry corrected.

“Yes,” Snape conceded. “And if given the chance, he would have fought another day too. Go prove your foolhardy Gryffindor-ness.”

Snape stood once more. Harry followed suit. Snape began to walk away.

“Sir, tell me one last thing,” Harry called after the boy.

Snape turned back towards the other team, “Yes.”

“Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”

Snape’s lips curled up slightly. “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Potter, but why on earth should that mean it’s not real.” Before the white fog descended again, Harry thought he heard Snape say, “Go prove to the world you are Lily’s son, Harry.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the prompt “I just wanted someone to notice me.” sincerelysaraahh posted on Tumblr. I took inspiration from it and this is the result. I would like to thank my friend Echo for all of her help with this story from prompt to posting.


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